BigBrother is boycotting sleep. Which means that I, too, am unable to cross the picket lines and fall into a much needed slumber. Instead, I shall look inward and dwell on things that I cannot change. Ah, the beauty of late night blogging.

Much of my writing has happened late at night. Letters to Munchkin while pregnant. Many a term paper. The best of my, allbeit, horrid poetry. When the world is quiet and still, I write my best. Or, rather, mostly quiet. BigBrother has the house bumping right now. But you know what I mean.

It’s times like these that I’m left to wonder, “What would this house be like if BigBrother’ current loud state woke up another child, say, Munchkin, and the two of them had fabulous late night conversations on our living room floor.” I’m sure I would never sleep. (Do I sleep now?) But the thought in my head is intoxicating. I know that Munchkin is just now getting used to her Baby Brother. It takes children awhile to process change. (In fact, it takes adults longer, depending on the situation and circumstance.) But in my romantic mind, Munchkin would have loved BigBrother from the beginning. And, by now, the two of them would be giggling partners.

I know this reality to be false. Munchkin is an impatient two year old who gets mad at her four month old Baby Brother when he doesn’t respond verbally to her, “HI JOEY!” I know that, even if she was here, the middle of the night parties would not be all loving, Kodak moments.

But late at night, just after BigBrother finally drifts off to sleep and I sit at the computer, wasting time to make sure that he’s really going to stay asleep this time instead of playing Fake Mommy Out, I imagine a perfect world. It’s my way of dreaming while awake.

Ya know. Since I don’t get to sleep.